


Come Fly With Me

by Ionaonie



Series: The Bond Files [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond is a menace, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ionaonie/pseuds/Ionaonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I understand that you don’t like flying,’ M said, not unsympathetically, ‘but we don’t really have much choice, I’m afraid. We need you on site for this one.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not particularly betaed, but thanks to thisissirus and seektheinfinite for glancing over this for me. All mistakes are mine and if you see anything glaringly obvious, let me know.

‘I understand that you don’t like flying,’ M said, not unsympathetically, ‘but we don’t really have much choice, I’m afraid. We need you on site for this one.’ 

Q nodded weakly. He knew the truth of the words; after all he’d been the one to establish that they couldn’t access the network remotely. It was just unfortunate that he was the best for the job by quite some distance. 

M glanced up from the file he was reading at his desk. Q was modernising the place as quickly as he could but MI6 was well and truly stuck in the twentieth century when it came to paper. They loved their paper. ‘007 will be accompanying you.’ 

‘I - what? This isn’t a Double-0 mission.’ 

‘No it’s not,’ M agreed. ‘Nevertheless, Bond will be your backup. He’ll meet you outside terminal 5.’ 

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Q pushed back the chair and stood. ‘Right then, I, uh, I should go pick up what I need.’ 

‘Good luck, Q.’ M returned to the file, frowning slightly. The dismissal obvious.

He nodded, already distracted. Half his brain was busy whizzing through everything he needed to take with him. The other half was trying to work out why Bond was coming with him. It made precisely no sense. 

He waved absently to Moneypenny as he walked past. 

‘Say hello to Bond for me,’ she called after him. 

It said something about his level of distraction that he didn’t even pause to give her the finger.

——

Slamming the door of the taxi shut, Q wasn’t really all that surprised to find Bond standing just a tad too close behind him, hand in pocket, when he turned back around and nearly crashed into him.

Without a word, Bond took his bag. 

‘Thank you.’ 

‘Travelling light, I see.’ 

‘When one knows what they are doing, crates of equipment aren’t really necessary, especially in such a technological age.’ He glanced down at the other bag in Bond’s hand. ‘I see you aren’t exactly pulling out the big guns either.’ 

Bond offered him a small, but genuine smile. ‘I have everything I could possibly need, courtesy of Q Branch.’

‘I hope so, Bond. I have no desire to survive a journey in a deathtrap only to die because you didn’t pack enough amo.’ 

Chuckling, Bond started moving towards departures, obviously assuming that Q would follow him. 

Which he did. 

‘Deathtrap?’ he asked, as they strode over to the check-in counter. 

Picking up his pace to keep up with Bond, it didn’t escape Q’s notice that there wasn’t a single person who stepped into Bond’s path and it amused him no end. In fact, there were several people who seemed to hurry out of his way. 

Bond glanced over at Q and marginally slowed his pace. ‘Deathtrap?’ he repeated. 

‘The aeroplane,’ Q clarified. 

‘Well, of course,’ said Bond. ‘How silly of me not to realise. Let’s get checked in, shall we?’

‘Oh, wonderful,’ Q muttered unenthusiastically as Bond presented their documentation to the woman behind the counter. ‘Let the fun times roll.’ 

——

‘I thought Moneypenny was exaggerating when she said you were afraid of flying,’ Bond said as they were buckling into their business class seats. ‘Now I’m beginning to think she was underplaying it.’ 

‘And your point, Bond?’ Q asked as his stomach turned over. 

‘No point. You’re usually so unflappable. It’s nearly unnerving.’ 

Q scowled. ‘It’s not the flying, per say,’ he found himself saying. ‘More, everything that I know could go wrong.’

‘It takes a lot of work to make something go wrong.’

‘Miami.’ No one could deny that the situation at Miami Airport in 2006 could be classified as something going seriously wrong. 

‘As I said,’ Bond said, dryly. ‘Takes a lot of work. And even then it can be easily derailed.’ 

Q had read the report, seen the available footage and nothing about that had been easy, regardless of what Bond said. 

‘If you’ve only including possible terrorist attacks, then yes, I concur. But a terrorist attack is just one eventuality. I have mapped out in my head virtually all possible mechanical, human and programming errors that could potentially occur.’

‘I see how that could be disconcerting,’ Bond acknowledged. 

‘It makes flying very stressful.’ To the point where all family holidays had ended up taking place on English soil. 

Bond’s eyes flicked over him. ‘I can see that.’ 

Q was saved from having to find a reply by the air steward appearing next to them, a fixed smile on her face. Most of it directed at Bond, admittedly. 

‘Can I get you anything to drink before we takeoff, sirs?’

‘I’ll have a scotch on the rocks. And he’ll have an Earl Grey.’

As she walked off, Q glowered at Bond who appeared completely at ease. ‘I’m more than capable of ordering for myself, you know.’ 

‘Alcohol only makes your anxiety worse.’ 

‘I know that,’ he snapped. ‘Which was why I wasn’t going to order any.’ 

What he would like to know, though, was how _Bond_ knew - or cared - that alcohol exacerbated his anxiety. Most people tried to ply him with alcohol or medication on the rare occasion he flew, unaware that it made everything worse for him. There was no way Q was giving Bond the satisfaction of asking though. 

‘One can never be too careful,’ Bond said as the steward returned with their drinks. 

Q smiled his thanks, not that she noticed with the way she was making eyes at Bond. Although he didn’t seem all that interested. Rolling his eyes, Q eagerly took a soothing sip of tea. It wasn’t as good as he made it, but it would do in a pinch. 

Bond flashed him a smug smile and Q had the overwhelming urge to thump him on the arm. Before he could follow through, his phone beeped. Leaning on the armrest, his shoulder pressed against Bond’s, Q dug his phone out of his pocket. Reading the message, he snorted in amusement. 

‘Care to share with the class?’ 

Not saying anything, Q turned his phone so Bond could read it. 

_Tell Bond that protecting you won’t be considered an acceptable excuse for destroying any equipment on your little jaunt_

While Q could appreciate Gemma’s sentiment, he objected to what they were doing being described as a jaunt. There was nothing remotely jaunty about it. 

Bond raised an eyebrow. ‘I would have thought that destroying equipment in the pursuit of your safety would be the only time Q Branch would cheer my destructive tendencies.’ 

Before Q could come up with an appropriately witty remark, there was another beep. As he pulled back to read it, Bond’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, tilting it so he could see the screen more easily. 

‘Oh, I like this message much better.’

Q pulled against Bond’s hold until he let go, the fading heat like a brand sinking into his skin. 

_Ignore Gem. She’s still pissed with 007. As usual. The rest of us happily give Bond permission to destroy any and all equipment if it means saving your hide_

‘Well, yes, but Sally doesn’t hate you.’

‘That’s almost sweet of them,’ Bond commented. ‘But what I want to know is what I did to the good doctor this time?’ 

Q managed a laugh although it was a bit strangled because the plane was sodding _moving_. ‘You mean beyond your usual?’ 

‘My usual?’ Bond tapped a finger against his lips, ferreting innocence. Normally Q would roll his eyes and tell him to behave but sparring with Bond was more enjoyable than thinking about how the plane was backing away from the gate and would soon be at the runway. 

‘You know full well that you keep winding Gemma up whenever you get the opportunity.’ 

‘I’m hardly at fault if she takes everything I say the wrong way,’ said Bond, talking over the beginning of the safety video as it began to play. 

‘As if you don’t do that as purpose,’ Q scoffed.

Bond didn’t say anything but his lips were pressed together like he was trying to keep from smiling. 

‘You’re a terrible person, you know that?’

‘I’m aware,’ Bond said dryly. 

‘But, if you’re curious,’ said Q, relenting just a bit. ‘This has nothing to do with any of our gizmos.’ 

Bond arched an eyebrow. ‘Gizmos?’ 

‘Gadgets. Toys. Tech. Equipment.’ 

Bond rolled his eyes. ‘So if this had nothing to do with Q Branch -?’

‘Ah, right.’ Ordinarily, Q wouldn’t tell Bond this, but perhaps if he kept talking, he could ignore the mounting panic that accompanied the safety demonstration. He knew that Bond wasn’t really that interested but was indulging him for reasons unknown, so he may as well take full advantage. ‘So, last week, Gemma’s niece was going to a fancy dress party and you, well, you - Gemma was going to add webslingers to her Spider-Man outfit - make it more authentic, as it were and she left it on one of the workstations -’

‘Do I need to understand any of that?’ Bond interrupted, a tad impatient.

‘Only that Gemma was going to make her niece something cool.’ 

In his head Q added Spider-Man (both versions) to the list of films he was one day going to force Bond to watch. A list that was completely pointless because he wasn’t yet prepared to admit that it existed and also because he may be a genius but he didn’t think even he could find a way to reverse Bond’s complete and utter dearth of pop culture knowledge. 

‘Right.’ Bond took a sip of his scotch and Q most certainly did _not_ stare at Bond’s throat as he swallowed.

‘But after she’d laid out the costume, she was called away to deal with some emergency and when she eventually returned there was a box of pastries sitting on it. They’d been there rather a long time and the costume was just one huge grease mark.’ 

‘And that’s my fault how?’ 

‘So you haven’t been magicking pastries into the labs every day for the last fortnight?’ Q asked skeptically. 

Bond’s face smoothed out. ‘Pastries?’ 

Q snorted. ‘We have cameras, remember? It’s no effort finding out who’s been sneaking in at odd times.’ He cocked his head. ‘Although shutting down security feeds isn’t exactly difficult for you so one has wonder how you missed it.’

‘Maybe I wasn’t trying to be stealthy.’ 

Any thoughts or comments Q might have had went flying out of his head as the pitch of the engines changed, becoming deeper. Glancing out the window, Q realised that they were mere moments from takeoff, the pilot announcement just confirming it. 

As they started moving, Bond nudged his arm, pulling his gaze from the lights that they were passing at a truly alarming rate. ‘Are you going to be better or worse on the return trip?’

Q felt his eyes widen and his mouth drop open. ‘We have to fly back.’ He’d been so focused on them getting to Naples that he hadn’t even considered the fact that they had to get home as well. 

Bond grinned at him. ‘Traditionally, yes.’

‘Bollocks.’ 

Maybe they could hire a car. 

Or, if he was really lucky, maybe a bad guy would knock him unconscious and by the time he woke up again, they’d be back in London. 

—

Unfortunately for Q - and much to Bond’s surprise - the mission went off without a hitch. At no point was he knocked unconscious. 

They didn’t hire a car, either.


End file.
